Love at First Sight
by A. E. Stover
Summary: When Keith and Lance recover from collapsing after being attacked on a strange planet, they don't expect to be continuing the battle back on the ship. Except, it's not a battle of wits or skill. It's a battle with their hearts.
1. Space Goo

"Well," Lance drawled as he shucked his helmet off his head and let it drop unceremoniously to the ground, "that's the last time we're ever playing Galran laser tag in an asteroid belt. I vote we pretend not to notice any distress calls anywhere in the Ourenos galaxy."

"Not an option, Lance." Shiro removed his helmet with a relieved sigh. "We have a responsibility as paladins. We have expectations to fulfill, one of which calls us to come to those who are in need."

Lance looked unimpressed, pinky wedged deeply in his ear. "Yeah? Well, what about _my_ needs? I almost got my head blasted off out there. And look!" Lance stuck out his pinky, covered in a dark purple substance. "I've still got Yveltan goo stuck in my ear!"

While Hunk and Pidge freely expressed their disgust by mock-gagging, Shiro only frowned.

"Lance, I—"

 _"A—ASCHOOO!"_

Shiro glanced to his right, at Keith. "Bless you. Lance, I understand that you—"

"ASCHOOO! AH-ASCHOOO! _ASCHOOOO!_ AH-AHHH _SCHOOOOO!"_

"Whoa, Keith, you okay?" Hunk gently rubbed Keith's back. "You don't really look so hot."

Keith wiped his nose on the sleeve of his dark undersuit and sniffled loudly, eyes narrowed and slightly watery. "Really? I think I'm running a fever, though."

A few steps away, Lance muttered bitterly to himself. "And _I'm_ running a purple candle shop. Look at all this—this _goo_ in my ear!"

"He means you don't look well," Shiro clarified, sparing Lance only a sympathetic nod of understanding.

"I don't," said Keith, his tone almost a beat away from whiny. "Sorry. Woke up like this. Didn't expect it to get any worse."

Hunk suddenly took a leap away from the team. When he received several pairs of curious eyes, he held out his hands as if to be on the defensive. "No offence, but what if it's contagious? What if it's, like, alien ebola? I-I don't wanna get space flu! How do you even treat space flu?"

"And how do ya get rid of an alien goo infestation?!"

"Gaah! Don't come near me with that, either!"

"Oh, come on! Help a buddy out a little, would ya?"

"No! Pidge, help!"

As Hunk frantically shoved Pidge between him and Lance like a human shield, Pidge turned to Shiro with a look that was half "what the fuck" and "please take me away from this."

Shiro first consoled Hunk. "There's no space flu," he said, enunciating each word clearly. "Everything's gonna be fine. And Lance, stop that. You're starting to gross everyone out."

"Yeah, no need to worry here," Lance deadpanned. "Just let the Blue Paladin _drown_ in Yveltan gloop!" To emphasize his predicament, Lance pinched his nostrils shut and blew, letting purple slime trickle out of his ears and leave thin, sticky trails.

Shiro looked vaguely alarmed. "O…kay. You need to get some help with that."

"That's what I've been telling you!" Lance gestured wildly with his arms, nostrils flaring as he shouted.

Shiro sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "I'm sorry, Lance. It's been a long day for all of us. Hunk, why don't you get Coran? Let him know Lance and Keith needs medical attention."

 _"Finally."_ "What? No."

The team turned disbelieving stares on Keith.

"I don't need medical attention. You're overreacting." Keith sniffled loudly, and then coughed into the crook of his elbow. "I'm fine. I just need to rest."

The other paladins exchanged looks.

Then, Shiro pressed on. "Keith, you said yourself that you didn't expect your condition to get worse."

"What? No I didn't."

"…Yes, you did."

"Nope. Don't remember."

"Keith, I know you feel like this is unnecessary, but—"

"I'm. _Fine._ Stop acting like you're—"

Keith's body chose that precise moment to betray him, rapidly firing off three sneezes loud enough to echo in the Hanger.

Keith cast a miserable glare at the team. " _Not._ A _word."_ He sniffed.

Then he passed out.

"Keith!"

Pidge and Shiro flocked to their fallen teammate.

"I'm getting Coran!" Hunk shouted, bolting out as if he were being chased.

Lance walked a few steps over, stopped, picked up his helmet from the ground, and stared at it. "You know, we could've just called Coran with our comms."

Pidge grabbed her helmet and started doing just that.

"Coran! Coran, are you there?"

"While you're at it," Lance continued, words starting to slur, "tell 'im that I'm… not feelin' too hot, either, mmkay?"

And then Lance fell to the floor with a bodily thud, besides Keith.

Pidge and Shiro looked at each other.

"This… This isn't space flu, right?"

"Pidge, there's no such thing as space flu."

"Right. Well. I'm taking precautions. And leaving. I'll leave these two to you, spacedad."

"H-Hey, I said not to call me that—"

"See ya!"

Shiro sighed.


	2. Space Alien Phoenix

Resha'ari floated on the orbital closest to the 42st oldest star in the Ourenos galaxy. Given its exact location, the inhabitants naturally developed immunities and/or strong resistances to numerous viruses and bacterial colonies congesting the foreign star system.

Hunk had no idea how all that worked. He hadn't really been listening to Pidge's explanation. He just got that it had to do with the 42nd star.

What he _did_ know was that they were tasked with recon on Resha'ari, with the explicit purpose of identifying the purple goo from Lance's ears. Said teammate was still out cold, but Keith had fortunately woken up briefly just that morning. His moment of consciousness, however short-lived, was valuable. The team had been given a common denominator to Lance and Keith's sudden physiological change— a surprise encounter with an extremely territorial Yveltan on Resha'ari, upon which they had landed to seek temporary shelter from Galran attacks.

While Hunk kept an eye out for creatures with "red wings" and "black beaks" — descriptions that came verbatim right of out Keith's mouth which, based on observations alone, Hunk could safely estimate to be, oh, _99% of the planet's population_ — Pidge was occupied with the planet itself.

The vast area was filled with some kind of white smoke that hissed and steamed whenever there was movement. It swirled thickly around them, completely blocking out the view of the stars. Taking up nearly half the view of the planet's sky was a glowing ball of yellow and red. That was the view of the 42nd oldest star, the only star whose light could penetrate the swirling white smoke of the planet, and an unsettling reminder of how little the distance between Resha'ari and the star truly was.

"It's astounding, really, to think that a natural reaction of two incredibly volatile gases at work could create such an impact on a single planet. Who would've thought that a simple chemical reaction in the gas phase could garner such a positive mutation at the molecular level?"

"Yeah," said Hunk , who was much more interested in carefully maneuvering through the thick, black slime the planet considered a "road." A dark shadow cast over them, disappearing as quickly as it came. Hunk looked up, watching the slow glide of a Yveltan that had dipped a little low in its flight. There were hundreds of them, all immense and mute, traveling through the skies in some sort of trancelike dance. A few perched quietly on metal poles that were staked to a ground of black muck, somehow unmoving in the slow-moving stream of slime. On these poles were what Pidge and Hunk presumed to be signposts, each marked in a language their helmets auto-translated as reading "1R Path," "2R Path," "3R Path" — so on and so forth.

"Actually, the entire existence of Resha'ari is cool. To exist this close to a star? Under typical circumstances, the gravitational force of the star would have drawn the planet right into it. It's nothing but highly advanced alien tech that keeps a stronger force pushing back on it! Can you imagine the possibilities on Earth if we could develop that kind of tech?"

"Uh, Pidge?"

"Hm?"

"That dude with the red wings is staring at us."

"Hunk, all of them have red wings."

A few meters away, one of the red-winged creatures that had been roosting on a thick metal pole puffed up its scaled chest.

"Yeah," said Hunk nervously, "but only one of 'em is staring at us."

Its wings expanded, and it reeled back its head. Smoke began to unfurl from the creature's closed beak.

Pidge's eyes widened. "Oh, no."

"RUN!" Hunk shouted, grabbing Pidge by the arm. Both had narrowly missed a shot of fire that streamed past their left, making both cry out in fear. They raced down something marked "20R Path," rushing past screeching Yveltans, all of whom took flight the moment they got close.

"I don't remember Keith telling us this part of the story!" Hunk cried.

"Well, considering the fact that he was conscious for only 5 seconds, I don't think we can blame him," Pidge laughed nervously.

"Five seconds is more than enough time to mention being chased by a _space alien PHOENIX!"_

Suddenly, with a sickening squelch, the black slime started to thicken and recede. Black strings of hardening slime caught on the bottom of their boots, making them lose their footing.

"Hold on!" Pidge cried, eying one of the metal poles lining "4R Path" and grasping her bayard. "I'm gonna try to swing us around!"

"Guh!" Hunk said before he tripped on a cracked stone protruding from the slime. He fell face-first into the sticky road.

Pidge whirled around. "Hunk!" From the corner of her eye, she saw the Yveltan raise its head to launch another stream of fire. Her heart nearly stopped.

But before anything else could happen, a massive gelatinous blob squeezed out of the ground near the cracked stone, and engulfed the two paladins in tasteless, purple goo.

Then it sucked them all underneath with a loud, wet trumpeting sound Pidge would later describe as "a giant fart."


	3. Space Guilt

_"Your fever is gone. You should rest."_

Keith stared at the figure in the cryogenic pod. His skin was pale, lips blue and unmoving and closed just like his eyes. He looked as if there was nothing wrong with him. But if you looked closer… there were dark purple flecks crusted along the pinna of the ear, the only evidence left behind of whatever it was that had saved them from a provoked Yveltan in Resha'ari.

 _"Hunk and Pidge were sent to do recon in Resha'ari. I'm sure they'll be back."_

But they couldn't reach them anymore. When Allura reported they couldn't reach them through their comms, Keith felt a cold and terrible grip around his heart. My fault, a voice inside was telling him, This is my fault. I should've told them sooner. We should've told them sooner.

 _"Three Galran fleets tracked us down and engaged us in battle. We were locked in combat for two days, Keith. It's not your fault."_

Keith placed a hand flat on the cool, transparent surface of the pod. There was no response, as it was locked as is until Lance's recovery results could be cleared.

 _Youuuur fault,_ the voice laughed cruelly, _Aaaaall your fault._ _You should have known, you shouldn't have thought things would be okay. Things will never be okay. You'll never be okay, because you're not like them, you're a horrible, bloodthirsty, back-stabbing Galr—_

"Keith?"

He jumped, breath stabbing his lungs like a cold knife, ice frosting at his temples and down his nape. He ran a hand through his hair, trembling fingers combing through long bangs matted with cold sweat. It's not real, he told himself, Just a voice. It's not real.

He squeezed his eyes shut, once, twice, running his reflection against a checklist he kept in the back of his head (black eyes, black hair, pale skin). Shiro's face reflected somewhere above his hand and underneath the glare the overhead lights cast on the glassy surface of the cryogenic pod, and Keith's breathing soon came to a stand-still.

"Hey," Shiro murmured, slowly raising a hand to his shoulder. Keith felt the warm weight turn into a gentle squeeze. "You're safe here. It's okay."

"Yeah," Keith breathed out. "I know."

Shiro gave him a kind look, lips slanted in a reassuring smile. "He'll be waking up soon. Coran said the illness is almost gone."

Keith dropped his hand from the glass. "Thanks," he said, taking a step back from the pod.

"You should rest."

"I'm done with that," he scowled, and Keith watched the way Shiro's half-smile spread warmly across his face.

"Sounds like it," he joked. "But seriously," he continued, smile now fading into a solemn stare, "take it easy. And I'm not just talking physically."

Keith swallowed, glancing at his reflection on the pod, at Lance's still form contained inside. "Okay."

There was one last smile and a brief clap on his shoulder before Shiro left Keith still standing in front of an eerily silent Lance.


	4. Space Butts

Pidge almost shrieked when she blinked open her eyes. They'd been sucked underground in a matter of seconds; Hunk had tried to pull away by anchoring to the jutting stone he'd tripped on with one hand and grabbing onto Pidge's arm with his other hand, but the alien glob simply sucked the stone right along with them.

They somehow slipped right through the thick crust of the planet and made it out alive without being crushed by the shifting force of the planet's gravity.

And Pidge couldn't believe her eyes.

There was a whole city buzzing away beneath the slime-ridden land they'd been trekking above. And it was like a whole other planet. No skies swarming with white, steaming clouds, no roads oozing with dark, sticky muck, no fire-breathing bird aliens with red wings and black beaks. Scans from her helmet told her the temperature here had risen several degrees, but Pidge had already made that assumption after taking one look at the glowing, steaming red rock that enveloped the new civilization they'd fallen into.

Hunk was equally flabbergasted, pointing at the assorted machinery that churned and whirred and gyrated below like they were structures someone had pulled right out of a steampunk landscape, remarking on every detail that came into sight. Massive airships built with what Pidge could only guess was scrapped alien tech parts floated languidly through the air.

"Oh, man, I wish Lance could see this right now! This looks just like that one place in that Rise of Nations game. No, Guns of Icarus! It's like Guns of Icarus! Look at that airship. A-And that tech! I think I'm gonna cry."

"Please don't."

"And wow, it looks like they use the white smoke from the other side of the planet to get everything running. And what's that airship sending up the pipes? I wonder if there's some symbiotic relationship that keeps these two worlds running co-dependently."

That peaked her interest. "Hey, yeah! They're pumping black sludge up the pipes. What do you think that is?"

"Probably a by-product. But of what is the real question."

Their childlike blabbering died off quickly, however, for the brief moment of floating above the city burst like a bubble when the purple glob encapsulating them suddenly plummeted straight down below.

"YOUR BAYARD!" Hunk screamed shrilly. "USE YOUR BAYARD!"

"I CAN'T!"

"WHY NOT?!"

"I DON'T HAVE IT ANYMORE!"

The two screamed bloody murder as they shot straight down from the sky. Quickly, the sight of a barren, charred road flanked on either side by rows of short, stocky buildings came into view, and it was very clear to the two that they were going to crash rigHT INTO THE GROUND OH MY _GOD—_

Suddenly, a rumbling, squelching sound started squishing into their ears. Wet sucking sounds from below gave enough squick that Pidge knew all too well what would soon come long before Hunk started heaving next to her.

"DON'T DO IT WHILE WE'RE TRAPPED INSIDE!"

Hunk answered with a sickened groan, eyes shut and face losing his healthy pallor. Another heave rolled out, and Hunk slapped both hands right over his mouth as he hunched forward.

From the corner of her eye, Pidge caught splashes of color and awkward, jerky movements. Straight below, small globs of purple goo started coming together, amassing quickly in the center of the charred road below — right where they were to land.

They came from all corners of the area, seeping and sucking one another into a single mass, and soon it was as big as one of their houses.

The timing was perfect; Pidge and Hunk screamed one last time as they plummeted right down. But instead of splattering into a mess of fleshy gore, they were sucked right into the new gelatinous mass. Their movements halted, and Pidge had only a moment's warning before the force with which they had been thrown into the bed of goo came back on them, and soon they were shot a good distance up in the air.

When they landed a second time, it was on smaller, lumpy masses of purple; the large mass was scattering, and some had been kind enough to following the trajectory of their fall and collect them in their safe, squishy arms.

Er… "arms," Pidge amended mentally.

Not surprisingly, Pidge heard the unmistakable sounds of Hunk emptying his stomach a few steps away. Pidge herself tried not to do the same, especially when the slow globs suddenly slid rapidly towards the ooze of vomit and start to absorb Hunk's past few meals.

"Ugggh… I think I'm gonna be sick again," said Hunk miserably.

Pidge looked away quickly, closing her eyes and taking deep breaths of clean oxygen provided by her mask until the slight trembling of her stomach settled peacefully.

When she opened her eyes next, she was greeted with the sight of purple goo piled up to what would probably be her height if she were to stand straight. A bulge of goo started to protrude somewhere right in the middle, and Pidge watched with curious horror as it started to grow longer and longer and extended right in front of her face.

"Gaaaaaaannnnnn," it moaned. "Sssnnnnsshhhhhiiiiiiiikkkkk," came the following garble.

Pidge stared at the creature with wide eyes.

"Oh, man," said Hunk, gasping for breath as he recovered from his vomiting. "I think we landed harder than we thought. My comm's busted. Pidge, what'd it say?"

Pidge started fumbling with the controls on her helmet. "I-I think mine's broken too. I can't—I don't know what it's—"

"Aaaaalteaaaaannnnn… Teeeecccccccch…" it suddenly said, sounding for all intents and purposes as if it were an exhausted, dying old man. "Saaaalutaaaationnnnnns…"

"Uh, hi" said Hunk.

"Reeeetuuuuuurn myyyy broooootherrrrrrr…." it gasped, the protruding tentacle of slime jutting against the front of Pidge's uniform.

Pidge yelped and slapped both hands over her chest. "Hey!" she cried, affronted. "Y-You can't just—"

The tentacle retracted immediately. "Apoooologiieeeeesss," said the pile of goo. "Noooo harrrm inteeendeeeeddddd… Pleaaaaase retuuuuurn myyy broooootherrrr…"

Hunk and Pidge looked at each other.

Pidge withdrew a vial from the front pocket of her uniform. Inside was a sample of the substance leaking out from Lance's ears. She held it out hesitantly. "Is… Is this what you're talking about?"

All of a sudden, the vial burst. Pidge gave a shocked step backwards, and Hunk stepped forward to stand beside her. The sample of good dropped to the ground, squiggling into the charred ground upon which they stood.

"Ahhhhhhhhhh…" the pile of goo sighed, deflating slightly and bouncing back erect. "Thaaaaaaank youuuuuu, Aaalteaan ssooldier, for escorting my precious brother back home. It is most appreciated! The civilization of Zek'kom extends our gratitude. The Xernii will conquer once again! Hurrah!Hurrah!"

"Hurrah!" came a chorused reply. Now massing at every window, door, and balcony of the buildings were masses of purple goo, waving thin tendrils and throwing shimmering powder into the air.

Pidge stared open-mouthed at the scene playing in front of them.

"Well, this is new," Hunk quipped. A small glob of purple good came to settle at his foot. "Hey, there, kiddo," he cooed. It gurgled in response and climbed up his leg. "Whoa, uh. You're kinda fast for a blob of mucous, aren't ya?"

"Valiant soldiers! We thank you again. How can we ever repay your kindness?"

Pidge looked over her shoulder to Hunk to see if he wanted to relay the information. Her face fell when she saw what Hunk was doing.

"Hey, don't do that— I can't see!" Hunk clomped awkward along the charred road, the little glob expanding over its face and gurgling as it drooled. He reached with his hands and tried to pull it off. When he touched the slime, the glob squeaked in surprised and froze. "Oops. Sorry. Was that your butt?"

Pidge turned back to the supposed leader of the Xernii. "Well, we wanted to ask about—"

"Ah-bupbup!" A tendril suddenly squashed against the front of Pidge's helmet. "My apologies, but we must first insist that you drink this."

With a wet cough and a hack, the slime creature deposited two mucousy drops of goo into a hollowed stone it seemingly picked up out of nowhere. It offered one to Pidge, then extended a second tendril to Hunk.

"Drink, please! Don't hold back!" The tip leaned close, and the voice continued, hushed, "For prolonged exposure to our planet's gasses can be quite poisonous for a creature of your water content."

Pidge stared at the substance as Hunk panicked in the background.

"What?!" Hunk exclaimed, cradling the little goo in his hands. "But we've got helmets on! Oh my god, how long have we even been here for? What if— What if the effects are irreversible?! What if—"

"Calm down," said Pidge, taking an empty jar from her pack and unscrewing the airtight lid. "I hope I don't offend," she said, as she let the mucous from her stone cup drip into the jar. "But we can't drink without taking off our helmets. And I'd rather not take it off if what you say is true."

"Not to worry!" the creature replied, almost brimming with energy. "But if that is the case, I do urge you to make haste with your departure. I would rather send our new allies off in tiptop shape than see them suffer from the gasses."

Pidge thought of how quickly and suddenly Keith and Lance had passed out on their ship. "What kinds of effects could the gasses cause?"

"Oh, they are mild. Fever, a bit of a cough, some dizzyness… Also, hysteria and hallucination. Death, too. Though, I hear that one's rare."

Pidge and Hunk looked to each other in alarm.

"But don't worry. If you were prone to be affected on the more extreme end of the spectrum, symptoms would have started already. Quite joyously for you, they're all reversible and simple to treat. Except death. That one's kind of permanent."

The two paladins heaved a heavy sigh of relief.

"Mm, but there _is_ one other condition that happens, according to tales from out yonder. I hear that in some water bodies, the gasses create a peculiar reaction… Behaving almost like an aphrodisiac."

Pidge and Hunk stared at the slime creature for a few seconds. They stared at each other. Then, Hunk grabbed the airtight jar in Pidge's hands, uncapped it, and held it out to the Xernii leader.

"Yeah, uh, we're gonna need, like, a dozen more of your snot balls, please?"


	5. Space Angels

Keith was halfway across the room when he saw it happen: the pod opened with a hiss of cold air, and Lance tumbled out to land face-first on the floor.

And stay on the floor.

He was pulling Lance off the ground and letting him lean on his left arm and shoulder before he knew what he was doing. Panic bubbled underneath his calm exterior. Last time Lance had popped out of the tank, he had fallen but he sure hadn't faceplanted to the ground. What was going on? Hadn't he recovered? Did the pod reject him for treatment because it couldn't heal him? Had the damage been that extensive?

Keith tugged off one of his gloves and slapped a hand on Lance's forehead. It felt cold. Was it supposed to feel that way? Sure, he'd just come out of the pod, but was he supposed to feel this cold? Oh god, was he even breathing? Keith bit the inside of his cheek to keep from screaming.

But then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw movement. Slow, repetitive movement. Keith looked away from Lance's face and at his clothed chest. As he watched Lance's chest rise up and down, Keith felt something grip his heart. It wasn't fear, but it was close. It was… It was… ?

A shock of blue grabbed his attention. Lance's eyes cracked open and blinked sleepily up at him, brows furrowing and looking quite like he'd just swallowed a ball of cotton. He coughed, and Keith leaned back, wrinkling his nose. "Watch it, you idiot," he was about to say, when Lance suddenly mumbled something that Keith could only assume was in Spanish.

"No sabía que había ángeles en el espacio," Lance croaked. Then, much to Keith's horror, a crooked grin that released a mass of butterflies in the pit of his stomach spread on Lance's face. "¿Que bola mamita?"

Keith stared down at him, mouth slightly agape, and feeling a cold sweat break on his brow for… for reasons he didn't understand.

"Tu flechazo en mi corazon es un flechazo de miles de soles." Lance waggled his eyebrows.

Keith didn't have to understand Spanish to know there was some kind of bad joke hidden in there. And just like that, whatever had kept him mystified enough not to drop him on the ground had long gone. Keith rolled his eyes. The idiot was just fine.

Fine enough to grab the back of Keith's head and yank his whole face down.

"What the FU—"

Keith's explicit statement was cut short, because something wet was touching his MOUTH . A soft but hard and wet organ was probing against his lips, and Keith felt an inexplicable fire suddenly engulf his whole face. The butterflies in his stomach turned into birds, soaring high up to his heart and bringing dizziness to his head.

And then something began to suck on him.

Keith froze, his mind scrambling to process this and deliver the appropriate response. His whole body tensed; the fire that had heated his face was now pumping hot straight into his blood, flames licking down his spine in ways that made some part of him squirm with a need he hadn't known he'd needed before.

And as quickly as it had begun, it stopped.

"Come on, baby," a voice that sounded like Lance's murmured against his lips, "you know you want meeee—uuuhhhHHHHH? KEITH?!"

…

…

Slowly, Keith raised a hand to his mouth.

…?

?

?!

His whole body felt hot, like someone had lit a match inside his soul and it got wildly out of hand. He couldn't think, couldn't feel anything but the ghostly sensation of lips and something wet (tongue—had that been a tongue?!) that had been pressed against his mouth.

And Lance…? What happened to…

Keith looked up.

And saw Lance sprawled on a the floor, now a good distance away, and staring at him with some kind of shock and horror and want—

Keith stood up, a million voices screaming in his head as his heart beat a wild drum solo inside his chest. "I have to go," he heard himself mutter, turning tail to run past the other pods and the small crowd that had planted itself by the doorway. He forced his feet to move quickly, walking as fast as he could without running, jerking his shoulder away from Shiro's well-meaning touch and ignoring the shocked looks from the others because shame, shame, shame, shame was a hot coal searing into the front of his brain that gave his stomach a sick twist and his heart a beat fit to bursting because oh god, what had he just done?

And he cursed the blood coursing through his veins, because he still heard Pidge's voice long after any other person would have been out of earshot:

"Well, so much for damage control."

.

.

.

.

.

* * *

 **END NOTES:**

(1) No sabía que había ángeles en el espacio: "I didn't know there were angels in space."  
(2) ¿Que bola mamita?: "What's up, babe?" (Cuban)  
(3) Tu flechazo en mi corazon es un flechazo de miles de soles: This is a play on words. "Flechazo" in Spanish can mean an arrow that was shot and is also slang for "love at first sight." This translates to "Your arrow [that was] shot in my heart is like a shot from a million suns."


	6. Space Guapo

Lance eyed the mixture in his cup. It looked like that one time he had acute bronchitis and blew snot and the rest of his lungs out into a tissue. Only, multiply that by seven and change the color on that from green to purple, and slide that fucker into a cup. Then bam, there you have it.

"Yeah, it looks really bad, doesn't it? Oh, but I swear it's not that bad. It's… It's actually kinda good. Uh, I don't really know how to explain it though. Remember Warheads? Yeah, it sorta tastes like the red one if you dunked it in water and drank the water after, like, ten minutes. And the texture is kinda like melted jello that's holding onto the last of its jello-y goodness."

Lance gagged. "Ugh, you're making it worse, buddy."

"Don't listen to him." Pidge pat Lance on the back, making him feel less like he was on an episode of the space edition of PUNK'D. "It tastes just like a yellow Starburst."

"Really?" Shiro gave them all an intrigued look. "Mine was like curry-flavored jello."

The paladins sent their leader a collective stare.

Shiro stared back, crossing his arms and furrowing his brow at them. "What?"

A beat of silence ticked by, and then all eyes were back on the cup of Xernii snot.

Lance swallowed hard, bracing himself. What else could go wrong this week, right? "Well, bottom's up!" He closed his eyes, pinched his nose, downed the whole thing in one go.

He was vaguely aware of three pairs of eyes staring intently at him, all waiting silently for his reaction. And it came fast.

"Oh, hey!" Lance ran his tongue around the inside of his mouth, sucking away the last drops of a very familiar, strong, fruity flavor. "Mine tastes like a cherry Jolly Rancher." He dug his finger into the cup, wiping off some of the slimy residue and sucking it off. "Pretty good." He tilted his empty cup in Pidge's direction. "Another shot, doc! Hit me up!"

"You're joking, right?" Pidge stared right at Lance as she screwed the cap back onto the jar of Xernii goo.

Lance scoffed. "Killjoy." He ran a finger around the inside of his cup again, trying to get at all the remaining goo. He was sucking on his finger when a stupid, stupid voice shattered his beautiful morning of blissful ignorance.

"Shiro, why'd you want me in the kitchen?"

At the sound of Keith's voice, Lance immediately dropped his cup into the sink and hopped right off the counter he was sitting on. "Alrighty, now, gotta go work out those glutes. This ass doesn't take care of itself, ya know? See ya, team."

Lance ignored Hunk's calls to come back and walked faster when he heard Shiro's footsteps fall quickly in line with him.

"Lance, come on. We need to talk about this."

They hadn't gone very far — the fact that they could still hear Pidge and Hunk in the kitchen was a strong testament to that.

 _"I thought the goo was supposed to cure him."_

 _"There's no cure for idiocy, Hunk."_

Lance felt his face twitch as it tried to decide whether to slap on a grin or to maintain the solemnity of a gloomy funeral day.

Finally, Lance turned around to face Shiro, mouth set in a grin. "Listen, daddy-o. I know you're gonna tell me to have a little heart-to-heart with him. Buuuut, between you and me, I don't think that's the best idea right now. Am _totes_ not ready for that level of shit. Tremendo paquete, y'know? How 'bout I work on my glutes and let things figure themselves out? You can join me if you want. Ciao, guapo." Lance winked and pointed a single finger gun in Shiro's baffled face.

Then he turned on his heel and made a mad dash for his room, all the while slapping a hand to his mouth and internally screaming at himself because oh my gOD _WHY DID HE DO THAT?!_

As soon as the door to his room swished shut, Lance leaned bodily against it, the hand on his mouth squeezing down tighter as he recalled, just a day ago, how the same mouth that had suggested Shiro to work out his ass and called him "guapo" had basically tried to suck Keith's face off.

He squeezed his eyes shut, a million things running through his mind that all told him he wasn't fixing anything like this, that he needed to grow a pair of cojones and face him like a man, that he needed to do something about his palms sweating whenever he was in the same room with Keith that only got worse after they both got sick and—

Lance slid down to the floor, flipped the front of his shirt over his head, and screamed his frustration into worn cotton fabric.

.

.

.

.

.

* * *

 **END NOTES:**

(1) Tremendo paquete: "Too much drama" (Cuban)  
(2) guapo: "handsome"


	7. Space Dad

Like clockwork, Shiro found Keith in the training room early in the morning. He waited by the entrance for Keith to look his way before coming in. "Is… everything okay?"

Keith hesitated mid pull-up and threw Shiro a withering look.

Shiro hesitated, then quickly amended himself. "I meant with the voices."

The withering look promptly turned into a glare.

Shiro sighed. This wasn't working, was it? "Keith, I know you're… scared with what's happened recently—"

Keith dropped down from the pull-up bar, straightening up and standing right in front of him with a fierce look. "I'm not scared."

Shiro molded his face into what he hoped was a calm, nonjudgmental look. "Okay, then. Talk to me about it."

Keith scowled, turning around and going back to the bar.

Shiro watched him launch right into a practiced set of pull-ups, body moving to a beat Shiro knew was a bit faster than what Keith would normally do. Tension was everywhere in Keith's body, and Shiro just barely kept himself from telling Keith to slow it down or else he'd hurt himself. But that would only set him off, so Shiro sighed, hand at the back of his neck, and sat down on the floor.

Perhaps 'scared' wasn't the right word. Shiro saw frustration in the boy's tight overgrip on the bar, saw anxiety in the speed of his pull-ups, saw anger in the way the muscles in his arms rippled beneath the skin, and saw loneliness clear on his back.

So he sat and watched Keith go through a variety of pull-ups: ten reps of L-sits, ten reps of wide grips, ten reps of short grips, ten reps of something Shiro had never seen done before, then back to the L-sits.

The air in the training room started heating up, the scent of sweat and testosterone thickening with every passing minute. Still, Shiro stayed, waiting for Keith to work off whatever was building up inside.

Shiro didn't really know exactly what was going through Keith's mind right now, but, based on what had happened in the last few days, he'd managed to narrow it down to three.

He really hoped it was just the voices. According to Pidge, hysteria and hallucination was a rare but entirely possible side effect of prolonged gas exposure at Resha'ari. Xernii medication was supposed to help decrease the symptoms, though the dosage had to be precise. Altean medical documents also backed this up, and also confirmed the dosage instructions the Xernii had provided.

If whatever got Keith all worked up was just this, then the team had nothing to worry about. It had an easy and quick fix. But if it was something else, something more… _personal,_ then…

They'd learned recently that a small group of Galrans had, at one point, sought refuge on Earth, from Zarkon's oppressive reign. Earth's encounter with the Galrans was brief, but prominent— through an less than conventional union, Keith had been born.

The discovery had, for some time, shook the team. Unsurprisingly, Keith had suffered the most; he became reclusive, adopting a bitterness that turned destructive and losing whatever self-regulatory skills he had on his emotions. But slowly, the team had been able to patch themselves up, and while Keith wasn't ever the same again, he certainly was getting better.

Shiro knew that it still bothered him, and he often found himself time to time lending a shoulder for support. There wasn't much else he could do, though he strongly wished he could.

And then… There was the incident from two days ago.

Shiro was pretty sure this was the main thing that was eating Keith up. He was pretty sure the voices, feeding off his still-recovering sense of self, had only made it worse. And Lance wasn't making anything better by avoiding Keith like the plague and living in the depths of denial.

Shiro breathed deeply, sighing through his nose and feeling his brow crease with his own dose of frustration. He was about to stand and leave when suddenly, the telltale thud of Keith's feet landing on the floor caught his attention.

Shiro looked Keith, who stood with his back still facing him, sweating profusely and panting from the intensive workout he'd forced himself to go through. To Shiro's dismay, Keith began walking out of the training ground, without sparing even a glance behind.

Before Shiro could call him back, Keith stopped in front of the entrance, head bowed and hand hovering slightly over the door panel.

"I'll talk to him today. I promise."

Shiro smiled as the door swished open and Keith left the room with less tension in his shoulders, his head just a little bit higher. Alright, he told himself. That went better than he expected.

He stood up, groaning as he felt his back crack from sitting cross-legged and hunched on the floor for so long. He rubbed at his lower back, and then, after a moment's pause, reached down and gently patted the soft flesh of his ass.

"Hm. Maybe I _should_ work out my glutes."


	8. Space Bro

Hunk finally found Lance in the Hangar. It was the first place he'd thought of, but the last place he'd searched. The kitchen was first. And then the control room. Then the stockroom, with the crates of space potatoes. Then the… Well.

Pidge had distracted him.

Anyway, the point! The point was that he thought Lance would be in the Hangar, and in the Hangar he was. Hunk gave himself a pat on the back. Nice sleuthing, Hunk, excellent work. Why, thank you!

"Lance?" Hunk spotted his best friend for infinity years high on top of the head of good ol' Blue. It was offline, but he was pretty sure it was on somehow, because there was some kind of sound that got louder the closer he got.

"Hey, uhhh, Lance? Whatcha up to up there?"

No response.

Huh. That was weird.

Hunk squinted and craned his neck back to see better. Lance was fully reclined along the top of Blue's head, arms crossed behind his head and legs crossed at the ankles. Even from down below, Hunk could spot Lance's sleeping mask in a heartbeat.

Then he heard it— a familiar, nostalgic beat he hadn't heard in a while. It was a particular kind of beat, the kind in reggaeton music — a "dembow riddim" of synthesized "cross-beat tresillo", as Pidge once put it. Whatever that meant.

Hunk patted one of good ol' Blue's paws and smiled wryly. "Mind if I go up?" Hunk carefully started climbing to the top of the mechanical lion, taking it slow so he wouldn't get stuck halfway and cry on the inside like last time.

As he got closer, he heard another sound. It was coming from Lance. It was a low mumbling of Spanish, lyrics to the song blasting from Lance's earphones. By the time Hunk was hanging somewhere next to Blue's neck, he was grinning widely. Because he knew that song. It was that song.

 _"Subele el mambo paque mis gatas prendan los motores… Subele el mambo paque mis gatas prendan los motores… Subele el mambo paque mis gatas prendan los motores…"_

Hunk crawled the rest of the way, smothering a snicker behind a hand as he waited for the right moment.

 _"Que se preparer que lo que viene es pa que le den—"_

"DURO!"

Lance yelped, ripping the earphones out of his ears. "What the SHIT?" He tore off his eye mask, panic now clearly plastered all over his face. "Hunk?!"

"Found ya!" Hunk shouted, grabbing his shocked friend and squeezing the absolute life out of him. "Oh, man! That really brings me back. Like, 'middle school dancefloor' flashbacks. What're you doing listening to that?"

A wheeze was his first reply. Then: "C-Can't. Breathe."

"Oh. Sorry." Hunk let him go, depositing Lance carefully on top of Blue's head, right where he'd been before Hunk had found him.

Lance took in a deeeeeeep breath through his nose and sighed. He hit pause on the music and gave another sigh, pinching the space between his eyes. "Jesus Christ, Hunk — Don't do that, man." Lance went back to his phone, swiping his finger along the screen with furrowed brows and a click of his tongue. "I thought you were Keith."

At that, Hunk felt both his eyebrows shoot up on his face. "Ohhhh?" He was surprised to hear Lance speak Keith's name, considering how any mention of their Red Paladin of Extreme Coolness was usually enough to make Lance eject himself out of a conversation or room.

Well. Either Hunk really lucked out today, or this was gonna end up with Lance pirouetting away spouting some stupid Spanish poem like yesterday.

He decided to go for it. What else could go wrong, right?

"Yeah, well. Speaking of Keith, don't you think you two've been beating around the bush long enough? I mean, it's one thing if we were back home. I'd say "take your time, be comfortable… just do it soon,' y'know? But… we're in space, bro. A-And we're paladins! Who knows when we have to form Voltron again? Sure, it's been quiet for a few days… but it's crazy out there! We gotta be ready! So, at least… for Voltron, for— for the team — can you please, please, please just talk to Keith?"

"Hm? Oh. Yeah, sure, buddy. I'll do it later."

Hunk leaned in close, raising an eyebrow. "Today?"

Lance waved him off, eyes still glued to his phone. "Yeah, yeah, today, I promise. Look, I love you Hunk, but this is my scheduled afternoon nap."

Hunk blinked, watching his friend snap his eyemask back on his face. "Oh. Okay."

Lance plugged in one of his earbuds and paused before putting the other one in. With a thumb, he lifted a corner of his mask and gave Hunk a sheepish look. "Hey, uh… Do me a solid and keep my nap-time location between us, alright?"

Hunk gave him a thumbs up. "No problemo, asere."

Lance smiled. "Thanks, Hunk."

Well, Hunk told himself as he walked out of the Hanger with a proud smile on his face, that went rather well, if he did say so himself. Nicely done, Yellow Paladin of Hunky Goodness. Time to share the good news with their fearless dad-leader!

…Without revealing the location of Lance's sacred afternoon nap time.


	9. Space Serenade

Keith thrust forward, piercing the full length of his sword into the chest of the training hologram. The image of the gladiator flickered before disappearing with a soft, electronic whirr.

He stared into empty space, heart pounding blood into his ears and chest heaving with hard pants. Sweat dripped down the side of his face. He already knew what Allura was going to say before she said it.

"That," came her strongly disappointed voice, "was horrible. Your timing was off and you left yourself open on more than one occasion. Do it again."

Keith took in a deep breath and readied himself, gripping his sword in both hands just as two more soldiers were dropped from the computerized ceiling panels.

"Focus, paladin! You are capable of far more than this."

Keith intercepted a sideways swing from one of the soldiers. "Got it," he said, jumping back just as the second hologram came with raised sword. He hit the floor and rolled to the side, springing up around the side of the hologram and plunging his sword right into the middle of the hologram's back. It flickered and whirred away.

"Excellent!" Allura praised. "Keep it up!"

"Good job, Keith," Shiro added.

The tinge of pride in both their voices was enough to keep Keith going. He blocked another strike from the soldier, and another; the force of the parry almost made him lose his grip on the sword, and Keith found himself locked in a battle of strength and stamina. The training soldier had almost Herculean strength, and Keith was starting to develop a striking suspicion that Allura was raising the difficulty level without telling him. There was no way the training mods could keep him pinned this long on level 4.

"You can do this, Keith!" Allura cheered.

"Uh, go Keith!" Shiro also cheered.

Keith grit his teeth. Yeah, she was totally fucking with the controls. "What level is this on?"

Of course it was Allura that answered. "What does it matter what level you're on? Galra soldiers don't come labeled with levels of strength or speed. We fight them regardless. Focus your mind, paladin, and press onward!"

At her logic, Keith scowled. 'Princess' Allura? Battle-hungry 'Dictator' Allura was more like it. Still, he did as he was told. He eyed the way the soldier was stanced. Would it be worth it to try and knock it off balance? Or would Keith be the one thrown off balance the moment he raised a foot to even try? Could he, perhaps, use the force to his advantage somehow? Direct the parry to the side and strike from behind? Just how fast was this mod, anyway?

He was so focused on figuring out what to do next that he almost didn't hear the sound of the door swishing open.

Suddenly, Shiro cleared his throat.

"Hey, Allura, uh. We should— Do you want to go to the library?"

"What? The library? Whatever for? Keith needs this training more than ever, you know that."

"Well, uh, I could use some training too. Coran told me about the, uh, feint and flank maneuver the Alteans were famous for, and I thought—"

"Oh, you must be talking about the Kronian war!"

"Yeah, the Kronian war. Sure. Tell me about it. …Over there. Outside."

"Certainly! Shiro, your interest comes at no better time. In fact, I was just thinking about new tactics for the team to consider. In the wake of new technological advances, I believe our battle plans need much revising. The Castle isn't just a fortress, as you know. She is a battleship."

Judging by the way her voice was receding into the background, Keith guessed they were leaving the room. But why was starting to nag at the back of Keith's mind. What the hell made Shiro suddenly curious to know about… the Kronian war?

"Keith, please continue your training without us. We will be back shortly to review your progress. Shiro, we should also invite Pidge and Hunk our discussion. After all, we will be relying on their extensive capabilities in realizing these plans. Oh, hello, Lance."

Keith froze. Lance?!

Before he knew what was happening, he lost his grip on his sword and was promptly knocked backwards. The sword of the training mod phased right through his chest, and Keith was at least glad that Allura hadn't been in the room just then.

"Oh, good, you're done. Hey, c'mere for a sec. I got something to show you."

Keith watched as Lance crossed the training room to the control board, bopping his head to some song blasting through his earbuds and acting as if they hadn't been actively avoiding each other for three days. He jumped to sit on the control board (something Shiro and Allura would have yelled at him for) and went through something on his phone with one hand while he tapped out a beat with the other.

Seeing Lance suddenly act like nothing at all had happened pissed him off. It made him want to leave. Like hell they were suddenly gonna be buddy-buddy after… after that. Especially when the guy went awfully out of his way to avoid him— taking meals in his room or eating after everyone else had, abandoning his training regime "for the sake of science" and hiding away in the Hangar like he always did. They were lucky they hadn't received any prominent distress calls or were ambushed. Voltron would have been an impossibility as they were now.

And that was the only reason why Keith just grit his teeth and stalked over to where Lance was. Not because he promised Shiro, not because he "missed him" or whatever Pidge asked, and not because he wanted to prove that he wasn't afraid of confronting this.

Keith wasn't afraid. He wasn't afraid, ever.

When Keith finally got to Lance, the boy looked up from his phone at him and Keith felt his breath catch in his lungs. Lance was actually quiet for a moment, looking for some reason as if he'd been caught doing something he wasn't supposed to. And Keith could almost feel that anxiety steeping in the air between them, making him anxious in turn.

Then Lance broke into a grin, one that caught him off guard.

"You ready?" he asked, voice almost shaking with some kind of emotion Keith hoped wouldn't get to him, too.

"I guess," was his dumb reply, and he jumped back when Lance hopped right off the counter and yanked his earbuds out of his ears and disconnected from his phone. Keith watched as Lance tapped on the screen and put the phone face-down on the surface of the control board, the grin on the other boy's face getting stupidly wide by the second.

"What are you—"

He was answered, in some way, by the sound of fast-paced music. He heard repetitive piano chords, a heavy drumbeat, and some bass. It was quickly followed by a choral line and something that sounded like conga drums.

And then, to his great horror, Lance started dancing.

It happened just as some brass instrument kicked in, the choral voices now gone to let the brass take over. His hips started swaying side to side to the beat of the music, his knees bending one after the other to feed into the hypnotic movements of his hips. His elbows were bent loosely at his sides, and Keith watched, open-mouthed, as Lance's hands came closer and closer to him.

One hand settled on the side of his left hip, the other putting Keith's left hand on Lance's right shoulder before reaching for his right hand. Lance had been grinning broadly, but as his fingers laced with Keith's right hand, the smile was starting to turn nervous at the corners and a deep red started to stain his cheeks. A part of Keith laughed, because for all the way he'd been acting, Lance was just as nervous and uncomfortable as he was. And it reassured him.

And then, that part of Keith shriveled up and died, and all he wanted to do was scream.

Because, all of a sudden, there was singing.

In _Spanish._

 _"Debe ser el perfume que usas o el agua con la que te bañas,"_ sang a sultry woman, _"Pero cada cosita que haces a mí me parece una hazaña. Me besaste esa noche, cual si fuera el único día de tu boca, yo siento en mi pecho el peso de una roca."_

Lance wasn't actually singing it, but he was mouthing the lyrics and Keith was so, so close to him that he couldn't help but zero in on Lance's mouth.

Lance was still dancing, very fluidly, which… didn't really surprise him, because he'd seen how flexible Lance was first hand when they trained together. It was something Keith never hand, probably because his style of fighting, and a quality he'd come to appreciate in an opponent.

There was no power trip than the feeling of finally pinning an evasive opponent, and there were many, many times when their training ended with Keith finally forcing Lance into submission, usually slamming Lance on his back with him hovering above, both sweating and panting, Lance's lips parted in surprise and—

Keith bit the inside of his cheek and fought the flush threatening to dye his face a ridiculous red. No, he yelled at himself, stop looking at his mouth, look at something else, anywhere else—

The moment he found Lance's eyes, he knew he was fighting a losing battle. There was still a remnant of anxiety hidden within the layers of emotions trapped inside Lance's eyes, and Keith let himself dive in to see what else there was. And he found himself overwhelmed, coming face to face with all the emotions he himself had been battling the past few days— confusion, worry, regret, passion—

The song jolted him back with sudden bits of English. "I'm addicted to you, _porque es un vicio tu piel._ Baby, I'm addicted to you, _quiero que te dejes querer."_

In a soft, quiet voice, Lance sang along, translating as he went. "I'm addicted to you, because your skin is a vice. Baby, I'm addicted to you, I wanna let you inside."

He continued singing, following the Spanish lyrics of the song, and Keith was unable to tear his eyes away from Lance's burning gaze, even as Lance pulled away slightly to raise the arm holding his hand and— Lance spun him around, and drew him back, their faces so, so close, Keith could feel Lance's breath hit his lips when he continued to sing.

The turn made Keith's head spin, or was it the way Lance was looking at him, or was it the way Lance's hand on his hip suddenly became a burning grip on his side, pulling him closer, closer, closer—

And then the song cut, leaving them breathless and staring at each other with wide, shocked eyes.

The silence in the room was loud and jarring, and when Lance started breathing again, Keith could hear it. His mind focusing on the heat between their held hands, the way Lance stroked the side of his thumb with his, the way his other hand was still on his hip.

When he swallowed, he saw Lance's eyes move down to his adam's apple as it bob with the motion, and watching Lance's tongue dart out to lick his lips made Keith feel like his head was bursting.

Lance leaned in, locking eyes with Keith again. And then he hesitated. "So," he breathed, voice trembling slightly, "are we… are we good, now?"

"What?" Immediately, Keith's brow furrowed. He pulled away from Lance. "Was this… Was this just an apology?" There was anger in his voice, and he could feel it crawling underneath his skin.

Lance sputtered. "No! This was—!" His face was bright red, now. "I was _serenading_ you! I just— I was just too embarrassed to ask if we—"

Keith watched dumbly as Lance covered his face with his hands and give a muffled shout. When Lance pulled his hands off his face, Keith noted with some self-satisfying sense of amusement that Lance's face had turned even more red.

"I like you, okay?! I was telling you that I _like_ you, that— that I wanna _be_ with you. I can't believe— I would never do that to just—! What kind of person do you think I am?!"

"Sorry," Keith apologized, haltingly. "I'm… I'm not good with this kind of stuff."

That seemed to settle Lance down. "Yeah? Well, me neither," he scowled.

Misunderstanding cleared and anger subsided, the weight of Lance's words now hung heavily in the air. They both stared at the floor, the ceiling, the door— anywhere but at each other.

"Soooo," Lance spoke awkwardly, "Are we… I mean, do you… What I mean is—"

"Yes."

Lance's eyebrows shot up high on his forehead, eyes wide in shock. "What?" he asked, sounding breathless.

Heat flooded back to his face. Keith rubbed at the back of his neck, moving his gaze back down to the floor. "I… I want to try this. Us being together, I mean— _oompf."_

He suddenly found himself being held tightly around the middle with Lance's face right in front of his. The biggest smile splayed across Lance's face, his eyes bright and shining like he'd never seen before.

It made him feel lightheaded, and Keith almost forgot to breath.

The look on Lance's face quickly turned earnest. "Can I… Can I kiss you?" he whispered, eyes wide and hopeful in a way that made Keith weak in the knees.

Keith swallowed. "Okay."

Lance leaned in.

When they kissed, with Lance's arms wrapped around his waist and Keith's hands carefully touching the sides of Lance's face, it felt as if they were the only two in the universe.


	10. Epilogue (Space Mom)

Allura heard and felt the way the main hull of the Galra cargo ship exploded all the way out in the command room of the Castle of Lions. Pride sang in her heart, and she couldn't help but deliver praise. "Excellent work, paladins!"

 _"Thanks, Allura,"_ Pidge responded. Her voice was heavy with exhaustion, but held a twinge of pride.

 _"Alright guys,"_ Shiro spoke, voice as clear and resounding as it had been at the start of battle. _"Keith, you're going in to see what was on this ship that it had to be kept on the DL for so long. Hunk and Pidge, give him some cover. Lance, you and I will be dealing with the escape pods. Don't let a single one escape."_

 _"Copy." "Roger that." "Gotcha." "Not a prob, daddy-o."_

The sigh that came through the comm system sounded resigned.

 _"Stay safe, guys,"_ was Shiro's last directive before Allura watched all five paladins split as Voltron and go off on their individual tasks.

Suddenly, some strange sound invaded the audio. It was a rhythmic tune that consisted of various percussion noises, followed by an airy, metallic-sounding instrument Allura had never heard before.

Before Allura could address the situation, she found her crew members reacting immediately.

 _"Ugh, NO!"_

 _"This again?"_

 _"Lance, why?"_

 _"We're in the middle of battle! Turn that shit off!"_

 _"Hell to the freaking no!"_ Allura heard Lance retort hotly. _"This is our song, babe!"_

Allura heard Keith grinding his teeth over the sound of blasting guns and shooting lasers.

Concerned, Allura looked over her shoulder at Coran, who was giving her a wide-eyed, baffled stare, moustache twitching in the way that did whenever he didn't know what to say.

Perplexed, Allura returned to command. _"Paladins, status report."_

As always, it was Pidge who answered her first. _"It's that song again!"_

Allura felt her brow crease. "What? A… A song? What song?"

As if to answer her, a husky feminine voice started to filter through the feed. _"Debe ser el perfume que usas o el agua con la que te bañas…"_

Allura's brow creased further, and she turned to Coran for any hints. He was still as baffled as before. "I'm sorry," she spoke to her soldiers, "I don't understand. What is this?"

 _"It's music,"_ Shiro answered with a defeated sigh, _"from Earth."_

 _"Uh, sorry Princess,"_ Hunk said, _"It's… It's not too big of a deal, is it?"_

 _"Not a big deal?!"_ This was Keith. _"This idiot can't remember to keep his lasers off when flying back to us. You think playing music is a good idea?!"_

Allura heard Shiro sigh. "Lance, turn it off. Now."

 _"You do not just 'turn off' Shakira. She's the epitome of pop culture!"_

Allura blinked. "Pop culture?" she echoed. "What planet is that from?" She whirled around. "Coran, quickly, find out in which star system Pop can be found."

 _"Uh, Princess **—** "_

"I'm sorry, Shiro. I'm going to have to insist that this Pop culture remain as is for the duration of the battle."

 _"YES!" "You're kidding me." "What?!" "Why."_

Allura turned away from command, conducting a search on her own. Wherever this planet of "Pop" was, she would find it. Because never has she seen her paladins fire so accurately at Galra ships before.


End file.
